


Into the Deep

by theorchardofbones



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Altered States, Explicit Sexual Content, Hallucinations, Hermaphroditic Creature, M/M, Monster Genitalia, Siren, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacles, anal penetration, idek what to tag this filth, or unadulterated slut as auto-correct tried to say, unadulterated smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 07:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: By night, Gladiolus thinks he hears the voice of somebody in danger at the Vesperpool.The danger is out there, but he's the one at risk.‘Well, darling?’ he pushed. ‘Do you?’Swallowing — the thing was gone from Gladiolus’s mouth, but he could still taste the salty-sweet tang of it down his throat — Gladiolus gave a nod.It felt as though Gladiolus was being cradled in a warm embrace. Where before it had seemed he was floating on the water, he realised that the mass of dark, moving shapes beneath the surface was keeping him adrift. Unconsciously, he sank deeper into it; gave in, placing his trust in it — in Prompto — entirely.





	Into the Deep

**Author's Note:**

> I'm owning my shit. I wrote this. Ooooh, scandalous~

There were few things that could ruin a good night’s sleep faster than a full bladder. Gladiolus had been dreaming about soft sheets and firm mattresses when the pulling sensation dragged him back into consciousness. With a groan, he sat up, scrubbed at his face, and began the task of climbing over his sleeping comrades.

It was warm out, even for this early point in the year, and sweat had beaded along his collarbone and down the back of his neck while he slept. He fanned at himself as he walked across the haven, padding barefoot over rock that was still warm from the day’s heat, and stepped down over the edge of it.

Sure, it was risky business taking a leak outside the Haven’s boundaries — the last thing any of them wanted was to wind up an urban legend at the Hunter HQ about that guy who caught with his dick out during a daemon attack.

He figured it was safe enough — there was enough light from the moon to see by, and he wasn’t going too far. He could duck down behind the hill of the Haven, safely out of view in case any of the others left the tent, and be safely back in his sleeping bag in no time.

He stared up at the stars while he emptied his bladder. It was kind of nice, in a way, to be out here alone for a while. Noct and Prompto were both nocturnal creatures almost to ridiculous proportions, and it was rare to be up later than either of them.

He breathed out a sigh and spread his legs out a little wider, tipping his face back skyward.

That was when he heard it — a voice, off in the direction of the path leading down to the Vesperpool. During the day he wouldn’t have thought anything of it, since it was a fairly popular fishing spot for the avid anglers, but this late at night it was never a good sign if somebody was out wandering. 

He shook off, tucked himself in and zipped up his fly. For just a second he considered heading back to the guys to grab some back up, but he wasn’t even sure if he had imagined the voice. No point in waking up the others to chase some fool’s errand when he could handle it himself.

He picked his way across the track and into the grass, his feet treading over soft undergrowth. He could hear the voice again, he thought — too faint to really pick out. He pricked his ears for it and staked his way down between the rocky outcrops, and it wasn’t until he was a good way from camp that he realised his path was taking him to the water’s edge.

When he heard the voice again, it sounded urgent. Like somebody struggling in the water.

He took off at a jog, his heart pounding in his ears. Gods only knew what somebody was doing out swimming at this hour — some jackass kids skinny-dipping, probably — but there was no time to waste in thinking about it.

He knew he was making a ruckus as he ran, alerting every daemon and beast in the vicinity, but he was close to the water now. Close enough that he could hear the voice for real now, and hear the splashing sounds of somebody fighting to keep afloat.

When he got there, he couldn’t see anyone — nobody struggling on the water’s surface, nobody even  _ near _ the water. He padded down closer to the shore and took a good look around just to be sure, but there was no one around. It didn’t even look like the ground had been disturbed recently.

_ ‘Gladio…’ _

His head snapped toward the sound — nobody there. He was starting to think maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him when he finally caught sight of the figure standing waist-deep in the water.

Their skin was lit up in silver by the moon, and there wasn’t a scrap of clothing to hide it. He tracked his eyes upwards, from the curve of his waist, up over toned, freckle-scattered shoulders, only to see a head of blonde hair that looked disturbingly familiar.

‘Prompto?’ he said, involuntarily taking a step forward.

What the fuck was Prompto doing out here?

He stepped up until he felt the tide pushing water up against his feet, then cupped his hands around his mouth and called out.

‘Prompto!’

When there was no response, he started to think maybe the guy was messing with him, but then he watched with a sick feeling of alarm as Prompto began to wade deeper into the water.

Maybe he was sleepwalking — maybe he’d got hit with confusion by one of the beasts roaming the place. Whatever it was, he was heading into the murky depths that were full of weeds to get tangled in, to get pulled into and lost forever.

‘Prompto!’ Gladiolus bellowed, fruitlessly.

He crashed blindly forward into the water. As the last flash of blonde hair vanished under the water, he was already up to his middle. After a few more long, frantic strides, he dived in.

The water was a swirling vortex — little of the moonlight penetrated the surface only seem to shine far enough into the depths to highlight the tops of weeds and the tiny, shimmering shapes of fish fleeing from the ripples he set cascading around him. He looked frantically about, this way and that, but it was too murky for him to see. Defeated, he pushed up to the surface to get a look from up there.

It was ridiculous. Prompto couldn’t have got far, not in his apparent daze. Gladiolus looked around hurriedly, bobbing on the surface of the water as he went, and sometimes he thought he could see the pale flash of Prompto’s skin or the yellow of his hair, only for it to turn out to be some trick of the night.

When he felt it at first, it was just a little brush against his ankle. He pulled his leg away, urgent not to get caught up in the reeds swirling around him, but then it touched his leg again — slipped around his ankle this time and caught hold of it, tangling him tight.

‘Shit.’

The last thing he needed was to wind up trapped here. He thought frantically back to swimming lessons he’d had as a kid, but there had been nothing about getting snagged underwater. He’d need to use his own wits here.

He sucked in a big lungful of air, braced himself, and ducked under the water.

He could see it, where it had snarled around his ankle. In a flash of quick thinking he went to grab his sword from the Armiger, but before he could ever get there his hand was caught fast, tangled in another weed. He gasped out in surprise, unable to stop himself, losing half his air in the process.

He was going to drown. The king’s shield, and he was going to drown in the bottom of a lake, alone and helpless.

He still had his other arm free, but before he could even think about summoning his sword another reed gripped this one, and then his other leg, and with a pulse of fear he realised these weren’t  _ reeds. _

They were...  _ tentacles? _

His lungs were screaming out for air, and all he wanted to do was open his mouth and gulp, but he knew that if he did that he’d be a goner for sure. He could feel his face burning already from the exertion, could feel the muscles in his neck going taut, and every attempt at pulling free from the grasp of those  _ things _ only seem to pull him further down in the water.

He could see Prompto now, floating almost peacefully in the water. His heart sank — he had let this happen, had let Prompto  _ drown _ and now he was going to suffer the same fate — but then the blonde turned in the water, his body twisting lithely in the depths, and there was a serene smile on his lips as he swam forward, draping his arms around Gladiolus’s shoulders.

Prompto leaned in close, sealing their lips together, his tongue pushing forward until Gladiolus finally yielded and opened his mouth. When he did, it seemed that all the pain had gone; that he could breathe again, that all the fear had fled to be replaced by a feeling of supreme calm.

They broke through the surface of the water together, Prompto only pulling away once Gladiolus’s head was clear of it, and the first gulp of air — real, fresh air — was such a relief that it  _ hurt. _

‘Prompto—’ 

_ ‘Shhh…’ _

Prompto shook his head, pressing his hand to Gladiolus’s mouth.

Any further attempts at speech were put to rest as Prompto moved close again, hands threading through Gladiolus’s hair to pull him into a kiss.

Distantly, Gladiolus realised that he could feel the grip around his ankle loosening — that it was moving upward now, tugging at the waistband of his jeans. It yanked, impatiently, and soon Prompto’s hands were down at his hips, unbuckling his belt.

He broke from Prompto’s kiss, a question on his tongue, but Prompto only silenced him again with a fingertip to his lips.

‘It’s okay,’ Prompto said. ‘Just relax.’

In spite of himself — in spite of everything his training had taught him — Gladiolus did as he was told; he let his limbs loosen, and when he felt those  _ things _ move against him, felt them hook through his belt loops and tug, dragging his jeans down his legs — his underwear along with it — that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Prompto’s lips were on him again, his body pressing close. He felt something slick find its way to his dick, and just as Prompto’s tongue skirted between his lips once more, the very tip of that writhing, slithering thing snaked over the head of his cock.

It felt… warm? Fleshy, somehow? When a throb of arousal went involuntarily through him, hardening his dick, the thing seemed to lave over him like a particularly eager tongue.

Against Prompto’s mouth, he let out a low groan.

‘Feels good, doesn’t it?’ Prompto said into his lips, giving a low chuckle.

Was this the same guy who was too shy to ask for a second helping at dinner? Who used to hide behind Noct’s shoulder whenever he met somebody new?

It certainly  _ looked _ like him, Gladiolus decided, and he was pretty fucking sure that if he took the time to count all those freckles, to trace the muscles of his arms and shoulders, that they’d be the same.

The  _ thing _ stroked against his cock again, and Gladiolus felt more of that warmth spread over him, spreading up through the slit of his cock and leaching through his body. Whatever it was, it felt awesome; made him feel calm and lazy and  _ good. _

The thing — the  _ tentacle _ — had his erection in its grip now. Was moving slickly up and down the shaft. Was squeezing and tugging, almost tight enough that it hurt, but with every squeeze, every stroke, he felt a need surging up within him that these mere touches wouldn’t temper.

He needed  _ more. _

Prompto seemed to sense his impatience; he caressed Gladiolus’s jaw, moving his thumb to Gladiolus’s lips to spread them apart, and something slithering and wet and warm crept its way up his body, up his neck, and into his mouth.

The taste of lakewater coated his tongue, almost making him gag, but then that sweet warmth filled his mouth and seeped down his throat, and it was so  _ dizzying _ and  _ intoxicating _ and his cock was twitching with need. He felt the thing push deeper between his lips until his mouth was full, sliding slowly back out only to thrust back in again. He thought he might choke from it but it always seemed to stop just short.

‘That’s right,’ Prompto was moaning, his face contorted with pleasure. ‘Like that…’

The realisation that the  _ thing _ in his mouth belonged to Prompto, that every thrust of writhing, inky darkness was giving  _ him _ pleasure, made Gladiolus’s heart pound all the harder.

And still, he needed more.

‘Do you want me, Gladio?’ Prompto said, lips finding his ears. ‘Will you surrender to me, completely?’

Obediently, Gladiolus nodded.

The stroking of the grip around his dick stopped, holding him tight; he felt another touch slipping up his leg and snaking between his thighs, probing curiously around his entrance. His first instinct was to clench, but then that warm, tingling feeling flooded over his skin, relaxing his muscles, and he felt supple limbs wind around his ankles and yank his legs apart to spread him wide.

He felt the shape of something enormous move against his ass, and he wanted to protest that it was too much at once but the thing down his throat kept him silent, his tongue numb with the taste of the fluid coating it. When he thought about it, he almost didn’t care — he just wanted that grip to pick up again on his dick, wanted to come so  _ badly _ he didn’t care about the consequences.

He felt it move once more against his entrance, the tip spreading him open, and as it pushed deeper inside him the hold on his cock finally began to move once more, gliding along him at a tauntingly slow pace.

‘Do you like this, Gladio?’ Prompto’s voice said by his ear. ‘Do you like to give up your control?’

Did he?

In the training room, at Noct’s side, even barking commands on the battlefield — all of Gladiolus’s life revolved around control. From a young age his father had awoken him early each day, sometimes before the sun had even risen, and he had come to find solace in the regimented rhythm of his life.

This… was new, and frightening in some ways, but he trusted Prompto; trusted him and, more importantly, wanted to please him.

When he didn’t answer right away, the appendage slipped from his mouth and Prompto’s touch was more forceful, turning his head so that they were eye to eye.

‘Well, darling?’ he pushed. ‘Do you?’

Swallowing — the thing was gone from Gladiolus’s mouth, but he could still taste the salty-sweet tang of it down his throat — Gladiolus gave a nod.

It felt as though Gladiolus was being cradled in a warm embrace. Where before it had seemed he was floating on the water, he realised that the mass of dark, moving shapes beneath the surface was keeping him adrift. Unconsciously, he sank deeper into it; gave in, placing his trust in it — in Prompto — entirely.

Prompto nodded, as though satisfied.

The thing at his entrance edged a little deeper into him, and when he felt a throb of discomfort his legs were pulled all the wider apart to accommodate it. The position was wholly undignified, he was sure, and if anybody had seen him laid out like this with his legs pulled almost at right angles with his body, he would have been ashamed.

Maybe he  _ was _ ashamed; he didn’t have time to think about it as the feeler slithered back into his mouth, and he parted his lips wide to accept it.

A pulse of pleasure from his dick had a ripple of tension running through his muscles, and his legs spasmed in that insidious grip. His thighs were pulled high and wide until he was almost in a squat, and he felt the slithering darkness move deeper inside him, so thick and unyielding that he was so sure it would split him apart.

But it didn’t — and the need only seemed to course through him all the more, as though it weren’t enough to be filled twice over; as though he wouldn’t be content until the darkness took over altogether and there was no  _ him _ any more.

He struggled against the grip on his right wrist, and this time, finally, it relinquished its hold. He guided his hand downwards, running down Prompto’s chest and belly, over the smooth expanse of his abdomen, and where there should have been legs there was only more of those sinewy, contorting things.

His first instinct was to recoil in horror, but the mass of appendages seem to spread apart at his touch. There was a hold on his wrist again, but this time it was gentle and coaxing, guiding his hand further downwards. He brushed something slick and smooth, his fingers gliding down between soft fleshy folds that seemed to open to welcome him. There was a sticky wetness within, so thick and viscous that he could feel it even through the water, and when he brushed his finger experimentally upwards he felt a knot of tissue between the top of the folds that trembled beneath his touch.

He stroked at it, again, and when he looked at Prompto, his head was tipped back in pleasure, his mouth hanging wide in ecstacy. With each stroke, he felt the appendage within his entrance surge deeper within him, deeper than it had any right or reason to  _ go. _

Gladiolus moaned, deep and rumbling and frantic, as the thing writhed within him; he felt the grip around his cock hurrying in response, and he wondered if he might not just die from overstimulation until the touch let up suddenly.

‘I need you,’ Prompto said, his voice washing over Gladiolus in irresistible waves. His blue eyes seemed to bore into Gladiolus’s, bewitchingly bright in the moonlight. ‘I need you… inside…’

Powerless to resist — and with no desire to — Gladiolus felt the writhing mass beneath him push him forward, angling his hips until they lined up with the wet, warm cavity below Prompto’s abdomen. He felt the tip of his cock glide deliciously over something glistening and slick, felt it push through folds, deeper and deeper, until he was as far as he could go.

His hand — Prompto seemingly having no more use for it now — was in another tentacle’s grasp once more, yanked out of the way. He felt two strong limbs wrap around his waist, holding him in place.

Prompto began to move, muscles contracting around Gladiolus’s length where they held him within, and each stroke was such sheer bliss that Gladiolus could do little more than shudder and drop his head back, powerless to keep it upright. The mass inside his entrance was still writhing, still twitching and pulsing, moving in time with the gliding of Prompto’s folds over him.

‘Yesssss,’ Prompto hissed, his voice an enthralling melody to Gladiolus’s ears. ‘Yes, don’t stop…’

Gladiolus was completely at Prompto’s mercy now, able to do little more than lie back as Prompto had his way with him; and he was content, too, to let it happen. Each thrust of the thing within him seemed to push him further beyond the edge, almost to the brink of pain, and the feel of Prompto around his cock was slick and warm and twitching and  _ so good. _

There was a heat building within him — a pressure. It started in the very pit of his stomach and ebbed its way outwards, through each of his limbs and up his shaft. He knew, with a startling sense of inevitability, that he would come soon, but this felt so different to how it usually was. Where it was always such a quick, staccato climax, this seemed to be taking him whole, until he didn’t know where the sensation began and where  _ he _ ended.

There was a touch between his legs, clutching around his balls. It should have been too rough,  _ too much _ , with all its kneading and tugging, but between the surging mass inside of him and the tightness around his cock, it only seemed to drag him closer to the edge.

He wanted to scream; his heart was hammering so fiercely in his chest that he was sure that it would explode through his ribs at any moment, and that pressure within him was so profound that he was sure his climax would be the end of him when it finally ripped its way through his body.

He couldn’t — couldn’t let it, he realised. This thing —  _ Prompto _ — would have its way until he was done, until there was nothing left of him, and he  _ couldn’t _ —

He felt a rush of panic over the state he had found himself in, but when he moved to get free the grip around each of his limbs only yanked him all the tighter, contorting arms and legs back painfully hard.

Yet the thing surging inside him, the smooth glide of Prompto’s entrance over his cock, was so sweet and so  _ good _ and it didn’t seem to matter any more that all of this might be the death of him, that he might just die right here, broken and used, adrift on the tide…

When his orgasm ripped through him, it was like jumping into the waves at Galdin Quay; like diving from the very top of the lighthouse at Caem only to crash into the surf far below. He felt something bubbling up within his chest, and a roar so hoarse and desperate tore from him that it felt as though his throat was afire.

His eyes rolled back into their sockets, his cock throbbing and twitching; the touch at his balls seemed to be milking him, squeezing and choking the last of the essence from him until he had nothing left.

Even as he crumpled, his whole body going limp and vision flashing white, Prompto didn’t stop; he was still surging, still writhing, still using Gladiolus’s body for his own needs, and it was long after Gladiolus’s climax had died down that he felt a sudden heat inside him, the appendage within throbbing and pulsing until it had emptied the last of its seed within.

When he dared to look at Prompto’s face, his head was thrown back in the picture of ecstasy, mouth slack and brow furrowed, and Gladiolus could feel that wet, warm cavity enclosed around his now-limp cock twitching and pulsating as if it wished to swallow him whole.

That sweet, writhing cavity was still enclosed around his cock even long after the pulsing sensation stopped, holding him as though Prompto didn’t want to let go.

Everything was still — so eerily, unnervingly silent. Gladiolus could hear the water lapping around them, almost gushing in his ears. He wanted to kiss Prompto, to speak his name, to hold him —  _ anything _ to feel real again, like he was more than the four weak, useless limbs that didn’t even seem to belong to him any more.

Prompto tilted his face back down from the skies, his skin deathly pale in the moonlight. His eyes seemed cold now, somehow, as he slipped his arms around Gladiolus’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.

His lips were icy, but still Gladiolus yielded to him, closing his eyes. With each second that the kiss endured, he seemed to grow colder and colder, until he realised Prompto was pulling him into the water once more, tugging him down, deeper and deeper until there was only darkness.

* * *

‘Wakey-wakey!’

There was a light, blindingly bright; Gladiolus tried in vain to close his eyes against it, only to realise there were already screwed shut.

He sat up with a jolt, almost colliding with Prompto where he knelt over him.

‘Whoa!’ Prompto yelped.

Gladiolus frantically yanked his sleeping bag open, patting at his belly, at his legs. There was nothing there, no slick, dark tentacles holding him tight. No water, luring him down into its depths.

He wasn’t wearing any underwear, either, which Prompto seemed to notice with a blush. He looked away, coughing nervously.

‘Dude,’ Prompto said. ‘You okay? You’re acting weird. Like…  _ really _ weird.’

‘Yeah,’ Gladiolus said, pulling his sleeping bag into his lap. His voice came out gruff; raw. ‘Crazy dreams, is all.’

Prompto shrugged, flopping back onto his ass beside him.

‘Yeah, well you slept in, big guy,’ he said abruptly. ‘Must’ve needed it, too. It’s nearly nine.’

‘Nine?’ Gladiolus blurted.

He fumbled around on the ground beside him. He had an alarm set for six each day, ready for him to get him up for his morning run, but his phone was nowhere to be found.

‘S’all good,’ Prompto said with a shrug. ‘We already ate, but Iggy left some stuff aside for you.’

Gladiolus didn’t much feel like eating.

He tried to sit up, and almost failed; there was a burning, aching feeling between his legs, as though he’d been stretched wider than humanly possible, and every time the sleeping bag brushed against his junk it was almost enough to make him wince.

‘You okay, big guy?’ Prompto said gently. He touched a hand to Gladiolus’s shoulder, peering with worry up into his face. ‘You want me to get Iggy?’

‘No!’ Gladiolus growled. ‘No. I’m… I’ll be fine. Just lemme get dressed.’

Shrugging, Prompto pulled away. He clambered to his feet and headed for the opening of the tent, his stride easy and carefree.

‘Wait,’ Gladiolus said. ‘Shut the flap, will ya?’

Only after Prompto had sealed the tent shut, only after his footsteps had faded and his voice could be heard faintly on the far side of the Haven, did Gladiolus venture to check himself out.

He slipped his hand carefully, gingerly, down between his legs. His cock felt raw, the tip of it so sensitive he thought he’d pass out from the pain when his fingertip brushed against it. He was more nervous about checking lower down, but he had to; pushed his legs apart and leaned back, delving his hand down toward his ass.

His entrance was so impossibly sore, too, and when he touched it his muscles contracted involuntarily. He felt wetness there, and he yanked his hand out fearfully, expecting to see blood on his fingertips.

Instead there was something white and viscous, like cum, but thicker somehow. When he sniffed it experimentally, there was a tang to it, like saltwater and copper.

Hurriedly, he rubbed the stuff off on the surface of his sleeping bag.

It seemed to be an unremarkable day when he eventually emerged from the tent, dressed and ready to go. The cooking gear had all been cleared up, but he could smell food in the air; the scent of it made his stomach roil.

‘You’re looking rather pallid,’ Ignis remarked, his eyes narrowed in concern behind his glasses. ‘It’s not like you to sleep so late.’

‘I’m fine,’ Gladiolus said gruffly. ‘Let’s just get outta here.’

‘Soon enough,’ Ignis said curtly. ‘Noct’s fishing.’

After the tent had been dismantled, there was little to do around camp but pace. Any other day, Gladiolus would have gone for a run, and he considered it too — but it hurt enough to walk, let alone run, and the thought of the agony each jostling step would inflict upon him was too much to bear.

Prompto tried to make small talk with him, but it was a losing battle. Before long, he got the picture and buried himself in his phone, the tinny music of  _ King’s Knight _ lending some glorious sound to the silence that had fallen over the Haven.

When Noct returned, finally, it was all Gladiolus could to keep his relief to himself. He wanted out of this place, the sooner the better, and now that their party was reunited there was nothing keeping them there.

‘This yours, Gladio?’ Noct said, tossing something towards him.

He barely managed to catch it; it was slippery and small, and when it landed in Gladiolus’s hands he realised it was a phone. There were bubbles of water behind the screen yet somehow, by some miracle, it still powered on; there, sure enough, was his wallpaper: a picture of him and Iris.

‘Where’d you… Where’d you find this?’ he asked, his voice thick in his throat.

‘Fished it outta the water,’ Noct said, with a shrug. ‘Weirdest thing.’

‘Yeah,’ Gladiolus said. ‘Weird.’

When he swallowed, hard, he thought he could taste something on his tongue — salty-sweet, and utterly intoxicating.


End file.
